


Kathryn Has Wings

by AngelinaVansen (catherineflowers)



Series: ... Has Wings [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adultery, Angst, F/F, F/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/pseuds/AngelinaVansen
Summary: About ten years after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant,  Janeway is a semi-retired Admiral enjoying the domestic side of a marriage to Chakotay. However, Seven of Nine adds many complications to the mix ...





	Kathryn Has Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the early 2000s. 
> 
> Part of a series I did of unrelated stories, exploring the possibilities now the crew are home.

Chakotay comes to me in the dead of night. He smells of work, the uniform, the way that Voyager used to smell to me before I thought of Captain Janeway as my enemy. Good, exciting work. He covers my mouth with his and kisses me out of sleep. 

He turns the bedside lamp on after he has woken me. Takes his uniform off while I watch, not quite a strip tease, but watching me deliberately. Underneath, his skin smells lovely and masculine and I sit up in our bed and nibble along the hard lines of the muscles in his arm.

Mmm, my husband. I lay beneath him and spread my legs wide. I sigh over and over, his name and his rank and how much I love him. He smiles at me, part of him laughing at my seriousness. Loving him is a serious business.

His hands bring my nightdress up, over my body. Over my head. We press together, our bellies moving and throbbing against each other. The pulsebeat of our passion. I can feel his heart.

"Chakotay ..." I groan against the skin of his neck.

He cries out as I take his penis in my hand, a little too loudly. We are used to having our house to ourselves.

"Shhh ..." I soothe him. "Deunan ..."

Our daughter Deunan, home from school for the summer just this afternoon, is nine, and wouldn't appreciate the sounds of her parents' joy.

"Sorry," he mutters, but his brow is creased with pleasure.

I snicker and kiss him. He moans again, deeper in his throat this time, and has to move my hand from his penis.

He drops his lips to my right nipple, fills his mouth. Wets it with his tongue, churning over and over, suckling. His face is beautiful and intent in the lamplight. This is good love.

He brings me up sharply, sitting my naked body across his, both arms around my waist, head still cradled in my bosom. I should groan here. Cry out. The silence is strange for us.

I have to bite the back of my hand as he digs his teeth into my nipple. Holds the teat of it, tight between his teeth for a long, agonising time. Pulls it. My nails bite the back of his neck as I struggle to keep hushed.

He smells so good as we fold back to each other. My nipple tingles and throbs. His tongue is insistent and strong in my mouth, his hands huge and familiar on my ribs. We make such good love, Chakotay and I.

I feel faint as he slides inside me. Full and faint, with nowhere near enough air. My head goes back on my neck. His lips are sliding along the line of my throat. All I can hear is the sound of my own breath. I want to cry out this pleasure. It's begging me to really let it loose.

I give myself to him, handing over my soul in an instant of shattering, pumped bliss. Come down trembling, gasping, sweating. Tears in my eyes.

"Oh, Katie ..." he mumbles into my mouth.

"Love you," I tell him, over and over again. "Love you, love you, love you ..." Punctuated by kisses.

I feel like I am literally melting with pleasure. Rising and falling as he pumps himself in me, feeling like a shaft of hard, liquid heat.

He can't help himself as he comes. Crying loudly to the sky, eyes wide open, the completion of him. 

Afterward, while I clean his seed from me, he goes to make certain he hasn't woken Deunan. To kiss her. It is strange having our house with child again. 

Tonight, we don't sleep naked either. Curling to my back, one of his knees between mine. So lovely, and I love this man. I truly do. So much I make a vow to myself as I go to sleep. Tomorrow I will not make love again with Seven of Nine.

**** 

Chakotay leaves for work at ten, and I eat breakfast with my daughter. She has been away at a good school, and it's made her a good girl, quiet and respectful.

I watch her eat her toast. She is very much like me. I was surprised at her fair skin and red hair, very surprised. I had figured Chakotay's Indian blood would make her dark and dusky. She has his face, though, heavier set than me and plumper. And his tranquillity. She has taken to the ways of his tribe very quickly, picking up their language and their customs. 

Chakotay and I conceived her quickly after Voyager returned, after he broke up with Seven. I think Deunan was part of the kick I went through, trying not to end up like my older self. The older self that saved us. Look at me now, Admiral Janeway Mk I, here I am, ten years down the line domesticated. How unlike you.

The desk job. The refusal of a command. The marriage, the child. The years of love with a good man. How unlike the woman I should have become, I often think. Thank God for second chances.

Domesticated. My daughter off at boarding school. The husband with a top-secret job he spends long hours at. And the Borg drone who visits every afternoon for a roll in the sheets.

Deunan is very quiet. She's not a chatty child, but in my presence, she's silent as a sentinel. I know what that's like. I too was once Daughter of Admiral Janeway. Admiral Janeway the legend. Sometimes I dream about calling her Goldenbird, about drowning and dying and leaving her. How awful. At least I had one domesticated parent.

After breakfast, I help her with her homework. A long, rambling mathematical equation that we sit down together at my desk to do. As she's concentrating, I see a furrow in her brow, dimples in her cheeks, and a twitch of muscle in her jaw. How fascinating.

When we're done, I send her off to the summer house at the bottom of the garden for the afternoon. 

****

Seven of Nine comes to me at three o'clock. Dressed in a man's shirt and trousers, and smelling of my life here on Earth.

"Where is your child?" she asks, without even a hello.

"She's in the summer house," I tell her. Hands already on her neck.

"We should secure the doors, she may return," warns Seven.

"I can't lock my daughter out of the house!"

"Would you prefer that she discover you engaged in extra-marital coupling?" she asks.

"No ..." I say. "We'll go upstairs, and I'll lock the bedroom door."

"Very well," she replies, seemingly satisfied.

We kiss all the way up the stairs. Seven's sweet taste, her sweet lips, her sweet-smelling sweat underneath the shirt.

Her mouth tastes of delicate, softly spiced Thai food. That is always what Leila Wong cooks for Seven. Leila is the botanist that Seven left Chakotay for. Broke his heart, till he found me, and mine, and my heart made Seven so complete as well.

My hands know and find her breasts through the shirt. The full, pink breasts tipped with ashes of roses. Erect through her shirt. Seven never wears underwear, not even for me.

I pull at the buttons, and Seven is briefly angry when they tear.

"I'll replicate a new one," I say against her full, pouting lips. Just kiss me, Seven. Love me ...

We fall onto my bed, her hands in my pants, cupping my buttocks. Oh, she knows my soft spots, my weak spots. Humming so her lips cause a vibration, right on that part of my neck. Right on THAT part. I'm moaning. Squirming. We make damn good love, Seven and I.

She's pulling my top off, pulling my breasts out of my bra and fingering the nipples. The right one is still sore from last night and Chakotay. There is a bruise on it. A lovebite. Seven turns to the left one.

"No marks," I warn her.

She understands. I can't exactly mark her, either. She begins a slow stroke of my nipple with her tongue, teasing it until it becomes fully erect for her. Watching it intently. Seven is a serene woman, and she enjoys minutiae.

Footprints of her lips all over my ribs. Making me naked and kissing everywhere. Returning to make my nipple wet again, then to my mouth. Like she is looking for her breath in my lipstick, sucking from me. 

I feel too much. One moment dark, jagged rocks of passion, flinty and dangerous. The next my body is supple and soft as cotton. Ultraviolet to a lady's lavender.

Suckling at my breasts again. Her pink lips pursed to blow delightful air. My skin buds and bunches at its ripple.

I am on top now, and lying down on Seven is like lying with my face against a nacelle. I vibrate. Sweet Thai flavour, her coconut skin. Warm spiced oceans as I hide my head beneath her breasts, and slide it over her flat warm belly and nuzzle in between her thighs.

This is overwhelming. She is arching backbone, rib-bone, breastbone. There are veins in her forehead, in her neck. There are veins all over her body. So much power, her nacelles vibrate. 

She screams out like a wild, frightened horse, eyes showing the whites, teeth bared. If I'd have been with her, I would have been childless.

I wouldn't have been with Chakotay.

She kisses me twice, and I nuzzle the hair that has fallen from her pleat. She spoons with me, against my back, and her Borg hand plays with my nipples. Her human one testing my clitoris.

She is watching me. Seeing how close I am, and it doesn't take long. I claw the blanket and bite the pillow. She loves my moans. Mutters a soft, hissed "Yes" into my ear.

While she washes and dresses, I go downstairs to make sure Deunan didn't see Seven, or hear us make love. Chakotay doesn't know I even speak with Seven any more. But no, the summer house hologrid is still active. 

Seven comes down, and kisses me goodbye. As her lips linger soft on mine, I know I love this woman. I truly do. So much I make a vow to myself as I watch her leave. Tonight I will ask Chakotay for a divorce.

****

I have a slow drink from the replicator. Perhaps I'll join my Deunan in the summer house. 

I have to smile when I see what's in the hologrid buffer. No Trevis and Flotter for Deunan. Oh no. My daughter plays at ship design. She's constructing a holographic runabout-type vessel, completely from scratch. 

I try to imagine her serious face, totally concentrated on the task at hand. Parts scattered all around her, reading her PADDs.

I try to see her face so hard, but end up only seeing mine.


End file.
